#thingsfittingperfectlyintothings

oreos + mentos 6-pack tube

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Teehee :D Jen.

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Q was knotted into his office chair in such a way that not a single limb extended over the edges of said chair, feet somewhere close to his face and knees non-existent, back arched over, and Bond was convinced it couldn’t be comfortable.

“… Q?”

The Quartermaster glanced up, and looked at Bond with vague confusion. “You’re back.”

“As expected.”

“But you’re on time,” Q managed, blinking. “Well. Hello, double-oh seven. Congratulations on a successful mission.”

“How are you doing that?”

Q looked at Bond, followed his gaze to himself. “What?”

“You’re barely occupying space.”

“A talent of mine,” Q shrugged. “I’m extremely good at making myself fit into anything. Stowing away in the backs of cars is a personal favourite, although really, most places will do. I actually find it rather comfortable.”

Bond nodded with vague distrust. It seemed strange. “So…”

“If you think about it, fitting things into odd places is more or less my job,” Q pointed out. “Your pen, for example. Lots and lots of components fit perfectly into a pen which can kill people in at least three ways, and that’s without creativity.”

Bond couldn’t help the beginnings of a smirk. “So you… you spend your life fitting things into things?”

Q glanced up, horrified to realise that he was blushing ferociously. “No. I mean, it’s some of the job but it’s obviously not everything, I do a lot of other important things but these are pet projects and…”

Bond put his hands up in a placatory gesture. “It’s fine,” he told Q calmly. “I get it. Just thought you may enjoy some extracurricular fitting-things-into-things…”

“Get out of my office,” Q whined, head falling into his hands. “Good god. I shouldn’t be allowed to talk. Ever.”

Bond was trying very hard not to outright snort with laughter. “It’s okay Q, I promise,” he managed, suppressing his smirk very badly. “Just a suggestion.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“I’m actually just seducing you, but you can take it as mocking if you like…”

Q’s head perked up again. “Come again?”

“I’m seducing you. Dinner?”

Bond had never seen Q look quite so bemused. “Well… that would be nice…” he began uncertainly, “but on the proviso that the things-fitting thing you’ve adopted is put to one side as the worst chat-up line in the Western world.”

“Deal,” Bond grinned. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Seven,” Q contradicted. “I’m hungry.”

oven knob + A/C

(cjdurrek @ reddit)

pan + sink = water tight

(shortbizzle @ reddit)

protractor + coaster

(tea_head @ reddit)

iced tea + baby bottle nipple

(KalebThePenguin @ reddit)

table + alcove

(mwi98 @ reddit)